House of Anubis: Season 1 (My way)
by april243
Summary: Rowan wants to go home, but when she finds herself in Anubis House, things get pretty crazy. What happened to Valerie? Why is Bronden so fixated on bullying her? What is with Marie and school? Why do Zeke and Chris crack so many jokes? What's the deal with Nancy and John (Are they dating, or not)? Does Donald like her? Who is Sarah? And what is this House hiding?
1. The Mysterious Black Cab

I sat next to my Oma in the back of the black cab carrying me to my uncertain fate in the country I _should_ find familiar, but don't. England was beautiful, but even though I was born here and raised here, it wasn't home. Holland was. I already missed the canals, and the bikes, and the people that lived there.

She grabbed my hand while I stared at out the window at the blurring trees as we sped down the scenic road. "Rowan… You you'll be fine. I know it's a big deal, entering high school and being in boarding school and all, but you'll be fine! You are a wonderful girl and I know you'll make plenty of friends!" she reassured with her pleasant Dutch accent, still holding my hand.

"That's not why I'm upset, Oma," I mumbled, turning to face my loving, old grandmother sadly. "It's just… Why do you have to go to a nursing home so far from Thernbaakgen? In fact, why are you going to a nursing home at all? You aren't sick, and you have me! I just… I just don't get it," I said, trying to hold back tears with no luck. "And now you're sending me to this, this orphanage and-"

"No, no my little bunny!" Oma cried, pulling me into an awkward hug, due to the seat belts. "Rowan, this not an orphanage. I don't want to do this, but I have to. I'm 81 years old. People are beginning to talk…"

I said no more, just turned away. I wasn't mad at her. I really wasn't. It was just hard. My parents had died when I was 9 and Oma had taken me in. I had had to move to Holland to live with her, having to learn their language and culture. I was always much better at English, but my Dutch was not that bad.

Though I made plenty of friends in Thernbaakgen, Oma was my main priority at all times. I had even skipped time with my two best friends, Fleur and Lotte, to spend time with her. But now, 6 years later, I had returned to the country of my birth: England. And I'd be tackling high school without Oma.

"Rowan. Please," Oma begged. The cab slowed down as it approached the intersection, marking the five minute-last leg of my journey to the Frobisher Academy. We were already two weeks late, and I hope that it wouldn't be a problem. _Though it probably will be..._

I opened my mouth to reply, but we were suddenly startled, as was the cab driver, by another black cab speeding by the said intersection, leaving a thick cloud of exhaust in its wake.

"Someone's in a hurry to be somewhere," chuckled the British cab driver, glancing at us through the little rearview mirror, completely calm, as if it was normal to see transportation vehicles driving madly down the back roads of Liverpool.

I stared after the black cab, unsettled, if not a little frightened. I had never seen someone drive so fast in my entire life. _Where would someone need to go in such a hurry_, I wondered as our cab turned the corner, continuing down the now gravel road.

Oma grasped my hand again, and didn't let go until we reached the school. I, in fact, didn't even notice the school until I heard Oma exclaim under her breath, _"Godverdomme!" _

That's when I looked up and saw my high school year, looming before me.

_"Godverdomme" is right,_ I thought, taking a deep intake of breath before giving my self a small pep-talk. _This is it, Rowan. This is where you make your mark. And don't let _anyone_ stand in your way..._


	2. Goodbye and Hello

**Some of the characters' descriptions didn't post. UGH!** **Well anyway, Here is Chapter 2:**

**Also, Some of the names are very similar, and some are exactly the same. So keep that in mind.**

**The disclaimer is on the first chapter.**

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I pushed open the cab door and swung my legs out. The school was enormous! I could see other students staring at us, but I paid them no heed.

Seeing her struggling to stand up, I helped my Oma out of the car.

"Now my little bunny," she cooed, hugging me to her, "stay out of trouble."

I nodded into her shoulder. "I will, Oma." I paused, then whispered, "I houd van u…" "I love you…"

I could hear Oma sniffle, and then she straightened up, squaring her shoulders. "Alright, alright. I'll just be down the road. Not a bike ride's distance from here. Visit, Rowan." She rummaged around in her bag for a minute. "Oh goodness! I almost forgot. Here," she said, pressing a small, colorful doll, no bigger than my palm, into my hand. "It will bring you luck and keep you in good health…" She smiled. "It was your father's gift to you. He was going to give it to you the day you entered high school. I'm sure he will be glad to know it did not go unnoticed."

I clutched it to my chest and thanked her, as she stepped back into the cab. I didn't notice that the cab driver had emptied the trunk of my belongings until the car was on the road. I waved until it turned the bend and was no longer visible.

I grabbed my floral-print suitcase and tugged it along behind me. I stopped only once to pull out a photograph of the house I was to reside in **(A/N: The house English/International Version)**. I was looking down the whole time, so I wasn't watching where I put my feet until I smashed into a girl with some of the most unnatural, colorful hair I'd ever seen, sending both of us to the ground. When I looked up from the path, her pale face was twisted in an expression like she had taken a sip of lemon juice, but her eyes were troubled, like she was worried about something.

"I'm sorry," I apologized, standing up, dusting myself off, and offering her my hand, partly to shake it; partly to help her up. She didn't take it. I cleared my throat as she stood and brushed past me rudely. It was only then that I noticed the boy that had been behind her. He smiled awkwardly and went to walk after the tie-dye-haired girl.

"Don't mind Bronden. She's just worried about our friend. We haven't seen her since lunch," the boy said quickly into my ear before walking by me. I turned and waved, and he gave a little wave to, turning back to the girl, who I guess was called Bronden, and jogging to catch up to her.

I sighed and continued on my way. I was practicing what I would say to my new housemates: "Hello. I'm Rowan, from The Netherlands." No. OH: "Hi! I'm like totally an outcast! Please don't hurt me!" Yeah… I was going to die.

When I reached the house I couldn't help but stare at the old, Victorian building. It was covered in ivy which snaked around the pillars holding the roof up.

I walked up the steps to the front door. There was a gilded knocker on the old wooden door, and I was just about to knock with it when it swung open… by itself. _What. The. Hell?_

I stepped inside and was immediately awed. It was so, so…ancient. But beautiful. "Hello? Hello? Anybody? Heeeeeeeeeeeelllllllllllllooooooooooooooo?" I called, silently hoping that I _was _the only one home.

"Rowan Valkenburgh?" an old, wrinkly, man-hag asked from the top of the staircase. He lumbered down, coming to stand in front of me.

"Rowan _Van _Valkenburgh. And yes," I answered quickly, smiling nervously. "I am she." I extended my hand for him to shake. He didn't take it. _What is with these British people and not shaking hands? _

The old man grumbled out an inaudible response then said, "You are late, Ms. Valkenburgh. Two weeks late."

I resisted the urge to correct him on my last name, and instead replied, "Yes. I know. I'm sorry! Just, we weren't informed of the scholarship until recently, and-"

I was suddenly interrupted by a bubbly lady's voice at the top of the stairs. "Oh, Victor! I hope you aren't boring this young lady too much!" she exclaimed, sailing down the steps to my side. "I'm Trudy Nelson, the House Mother," she said, grinning. Her pale face and the skin around her twinkling blue eyes were a tad wrinkled, but not nearly as wrinkly as Victor was.

I smiled at her as Victor glared. "Trudy, I'd appreciate if you'd be silent," he said briskly, leading me into the living room with Trudy trailing behind. "This is where you have the three meals a day provided by the House Mother," he droned, pointing to the table set up near what seemed to be a kitchen. I turned and saw a painting of a couple standing in what looked like the foyer of this house.

"Who are they?" I ask, walking toward the painting, squinting at it.

"That is Mr. and Mrs. Frobisher-Smythe," Victor said, coming up behind me. "They died," he continued dramatically, "tragically."

Okay. That was terrifying. He was staring at me, as if challenging me to say otherwise, which of course was silly, because I had no idea who these people actually were.

It was then Trudy broke the strained and awkward silence. "Oh! Teenage girls don't want to hear about death, Victor! It's all about boys… And hormones!" Trudy began to guide me out of the room, but I stopped her.

"Are these my housemates?" I asked pointing to a picture of a bunch of kids my age.

Trudy grinned. "Yes. That's John, and there's Nancy and Marie… Donald, Bronden, Valerie… Valerie left suddenly this afternoon. It was kind of mysterious, but," she was suddenly cut off by Victor.

"No it wasn't," he countered breezily, gliding past us and lifting the photo from its hook in one swift motion. Victor ushered me up the stairs with Trudy in-tow . "No boys upstairs after 9:00pm and no girls downstairs after 9:00pm. You must be in bed by 10:00pm; lights out by 11:00." By this time we'd reached the landing where his office was. "Going into my office is forbidden, as is going up into the attic and going down into the cellar. Do you understand?" Victor asked, turning to me.

"Kristalhelder," I answered without thinking, too distracted by the creepy stuffed creatures covering every spare centimeter in his office.

"What?" he snapped. Behind me, Trudy flinched.

"Hm?" I asked, drawing myself back to earth. He glared at me. "Oh!: Crystal clear," I corrected myself, hoping I wasn't already on his bad side. _Though, I probably am, _I thought miserably.

Both Trudy and Victor brought me to my new room, before leaving me to get settled.

_Will this actually be good experience , or will it be _exactly _like I thought, _I wondered as I began to unpack. _I have no choice. If this what where I need to be for Oma's sake, then so be it._


	3. Roomies Maybe?

**HI! So...Here's chapter 3! I erm, hope you like it...**

**Disclaimer: I don't own House of Anubis or Het Huis Anubis, but I do own these characters. :)**

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I just finished unpacking my belongings when a girl with flowing blonde hair stepped into the room. She looked around in confusion, but when her eyes landed on me she suddenly looked hostile.

"Who are you?" she asked with a sharp voice; very British. I had to tread lightly with this girl, I could tell.

"I'm Rowan Van Valkenburgh, the new girl from Holland. And I'm guessing you're my roomma-" I began, but I never got to finish as another voice from the hallway chimed in.

"Nancy, have you seen Val anywhere?" Bronden poked her head into the room and gasped at the sight of me. "Who are you?! Where's Valerie?! This isn't your room! Get out!"

I was absolutely horrified. What was her problem?

"I just-"

"No. Bronden's right. This is not your room. It's mine and Valerie's. Get out," the first girl, Nancy, hissed. With that said, Bronden and Nancy began tossing my stuff into the hallway.

"NO! Stop! This _is _my room! Victor said it was! Please just let us sit down and talk about-"

Bronden interrupted me yet again, her voice full of snarl and well-masked worry, "Oh shut up! I don't want to hear your lies. Besides, your accent is annoying!"

_Klootzak… _

After my futile attempts to make them stop throwing my stuff out of the door, they shoved me out of the room and onto my bottom. Nancy slammed the door into my back with a meaningful huff. Bronden gave a photograph of mine a little kick with the tip of her boot, sending it skittering across the hallway till it hit the base of the attic door.

"This isn't over newbie," she purred darkly from where she stood by her own doorway. "You _have _to know what happened to Valerie, and when I _find out_ what happened," she paused for some sort of effect that I didn't know of, "you'll wish you stayed in whatever country you came from."

Bronden stalked into her bedroom to get ready for supper and shut the door with less force than Nancy, but still with a lot of energy.

I sat there for a moment, stunned. _What kind of welcome was that?! _I crawled to the attic door and picked up the photograph. It wasn't broken, thank God. I turned it over and felt a tear trying to escape my eye. I brushed it away with the back of my right hand and caressed the faces in the picture with my left. My mama, pa, zus, oma and I where the people in the picture…

Mama and Pa were driving my zus (_my sister_), Catherine, to her football game when the rain began. I was home alone. They were on the back roads in the nearest lane to the large hills that lined the sides of the road, and the rain kept coming and coming until the soil was dislodged and was sent tumbling down the hills in waves of mud. It didn't take much to bury the little car…

I looked away from the picture, gathered my things, and put them by the door to what I _thought _was my room. I would wait till later to actually _put_ them in the bedroom.

I took a deep breath at the top of the stairs and began to descend. I was on the last step when I, as the Dutch say, "gered." "Bailed."

Charging up the steps again, I dove into what I remembered Victor saying was the washroom. I locked the door and sat on the closed toilet seat. "God, Rowan! Woman up!" I whispered. I got up and looked in the mirror. I fixed the two braids that lay lazily on my shoulders, straightened my collar, and went to open the washroom door. No sooner had my hand touched the knob, did I hear a shout of fury from downstairs,

"I AM _NOT CRAZY! _YOU'LL SEE! SHE_ IS_ INVOLVED IN THIS!"

_A few more minutes in the washroom never killed anyone... _I thought, the pit of despair sitting heavily in my stomach. _Besides, if this continues, I may actually _need _to use the toilets..._


	4. The Supper Scene

**Hallo. Happy Easter! ****Vrolijk Pasen! I know people do not read this story, but for those who do, I want to say thank you. I love writing this story, and I love when kind people review it. I'll start giving shout-outs when I receive more reviews, but until then: Enjoy House of Anubis Season 1 (My Way)!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own House of Anubis or Het Huis Anubis, but I do own these characters. :)**

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When I gathered my courage, I walked down the staircase again- this time not running back up. I entered the commonroom, and knew immediatly that they were talking about me. The silence insued for a moment, until I decided to introduce myself.

"Hello... I am Rowan... from The Netherlands..." I announced awkwardly.

The boy I had run into earlier was the only one who said anything in reply, and even still, all he offered was a quiet "Hi."

Suddenly, a dark-skinned boy stod and narrowed his eyes at me before moving to strange, stiff poses. "Hello, Space Girl- Or 'blip, blop, bop, bip', as they say in your language."

I gave him a questioning look as another, paler boy with fluffy hair almost choked on air from laughing. I looked at him expectantly, but when he didn't introduce himself, I looked away.

Everyone moved to the table for supper, and I joined them. The only seat left was next to Bronden, (which made my skin prickle) but, nevertheless, I sat in it. Just then, a hand wrapped around my shoulder tightly, nails digging through my vibrant sky-blue long-sleeve shirt, and tossing me roughly out of the chair and onto my back. I felt the back of my head bounce off the thin carpeting with a muffled _thud_. "Au!" I exclaimed, rubbing my head, staring up at who had pushed me out. Nancy.

"That's my seat," she said as if it was obvious. Nancy sat down while Bronden, the alien boy, and the boy with the fluffy hair laughed harshly. A girl with ebony hair looked at me with worry and sympathy, but she didn't make any move to help me.

Only the boy I'd met earlier got up and helped me up. "Here," he murmured, offering his hand out to me. I took it gratefully. He smiled with such pity, that the small amount of hope of making friends I'd been clinging to disappeared like smoke from an extinguished birthday candle.

_ He just _pities _me. This boy, though means well, just feels sorry for me!_ I realized angrily. But I kept the anger to myself, and pulled up another chair between the boy who had helped me and another boy with a strong build. The chair had been sitting by the door, unused till now. Once I sat down and Trudy put the food on the table, only forced bits of conversation were spoken out loud. I wasn't stupid. I knew what they _really _wanted to talk about. So I took a deep breath and said, "Why don't you just talk? I would rather you do it front of me, than behind my back. Go on! Out with it!"

Needless to say, no one spoke. Not even Bronden said a word. It was so quiet in the room now, especially with the conversations, however clipped, gone. _I made it worse..._

The alien boy suddenly took an enormous bite of his pasta. His cheeks bulged, and the sauce dribbled down his chin and back onto the ceramic plate. "Oh gosh, Zeke!" the girl with the ebony hair exclaimed, digusted, "You're going to choke on it!"

Zeke just chuckled, spurtting chewed up noodles from his lips. "Buh it'z delisous dis 'ay" he spluttered, spewing more of his gluttenous mouthfull.

The fluffy-haired boy laughed. "Oh, Zeke! Where are your manners? There are _ladies _present." No sooner had he said the words, he flung his spagehtti at Zeke. My mouth dropped, but the rest of the table just giggled. Except for Nancy and the young man who'd helped me, that is.

Zeke threw it back at the fluff-hair and ebony-hair, splattering it all over them. Some how it was tossed in my direction. I had no time to duck so it smacked in the face, and splatter the buff boy and the helpful one who was next to me too.

"Oh come on guys! Every meal?" the helpful boy asked, wiping off a bite of sauce from his cheek.

"Donald, tell me something: Does it every get boring always being the one to say 'Stop that!' or 'That's not right!' or 'Fun is bad!'?" the fluffy haired boy mocked teasingly.

"Ha ha ha. Actually, Chris: No."

Another round of flying supper made a splat sound as it hit Nancy in the face as well, almost knocking her off "_her chair_". _Too bad it didn't, _I brooded, before I thought something else:: _Why am I thinking like that? I am _not _an angry person!_

That thought disapated like smoke when Bronden, who had stayed silent through the whole scene, tipped a full pitcher of ice water into my lap. I screamed in shock and stood up, the chilly water splashing to the wooden floor. Donald, the only kind person it seemed in this entire house- next to Trudy, stood up and started handing me paper napkins to wipe it off.

"So, Rowan. When are you gonna spill-"

"I think you already accomplished _that _Bronden!" Donald snapped at her.

She glared at him. "Let me, finish, Donald." She then smiled sickeningly at me. "When are you goning to spill the truth about Valerie's disappearance?"

"I guess when I actually know something," I replied, trying my very best not to slap her.

"Oh please," Bronden scoffed but simply let me flee the room with the last of my dignity.

I came to the foyer and there was Victor on the telephone. He nodded when he saw me. "It is for you," he rasped in his scratchy voice.

I took it in my hands. "Hallo?" I asked, figuring if anyone was calling me, they'd be from Thernbaakgen or close by Naansmegen **(A/N: These are made up cities in the Netherlands. They do not exist). **

"Rowan! Hoe gaat het?" "Rowan! How goes it?" came Oma's voice from the other end.

_ Oh God! I can not talk to my Oma! If I do, I will _surely_ cry! _"Alles is goed, Oma!" "All is well, Oma!" I tried to reply without choking on my own words.

"Maak je veel vrienden?" "Are you making lots of friends?" she cooed.

"Oh! Ja! _Genoeg_!" "Oh! Yes! _Plenty_!" I replied, tears were slipping down my face and, thank the Lord, my voice was even. "Hey! Um ... Oma? Ik moet gaan. We zijn met avondeten op dit moment. Ik houd van je!" "Hey! Um... Oma? I have to go. We are having dinner at this time. I love you!"

"Alright. Ik hou ook van jou!" "Alright. I love you too!" Oma said sweetly, her voice full of pride.

"Tot ziens..." "Goodbye..." I whispered, hanging up the phone and putting my head in my hands. Sobbing was a way to let all the feeling flow out of my body, and I felt as though I was letting a large, heavy burden off my shoulders. But that was short lived.

"Are you okay?" Donald asked from the doorway to the kitchen.

I looked up. "Yes, yes... Just allergies, I guess! You guys have cats, right?" Oh what a pathetic lie! I wasn't allergic to cats! I loved cats! And besides, they obviously didn't have any animals here... Well, ones that were alive, anyway.

As expected, Donald shook his head. "No..."

I sighed, and nodded to him before starting up the stairs.

"Wait!" I turned to look down at him and he looked up at me sadly. "I am _so, so, so, SO _sorry about them! They're just worried, that's all. They have no one else to blame for Valerie's 'disappearance' and your the first person they thought they could make squirm."

I smiled sincerely at him, and a look of relief spread over his face. "I know."

He nodded. "Panic does strange things to people, doesn't it?"

"Yes," I replied, "and believe me, the loss of someone does even _stranger_ things to people." He looked at me curiously, but I shook my head. "Thank you, Donald. If they ask where I am, just tell them I wasn't feeling 100%."

He smiled shyly at me. Maybe it was the first time he'd tried to make a person he'd only just met feel better. Probably. "Goodnight, Rowan."

"Goedenacht, Donald."

I climbed the rest of the stairs, feeling a little bit better after the chat with Donald. _Maybe he does not just pity me. Maybe he is friendly. And maybe, just maybe, the rest of the house is too, underneath all that nosiness and teasing. Maybe... Maybe... Maybe..._


End file.
